Classic Poem

The swallows come
To the sitting-room window
As if wishing to build,
But I am afraid they will not have courage for it;
I believe they will build in my room window.
They twitter, and make a bustle,
And a cheerful little song,
Hanging against the panes of glass
With their soft white bellies
And their forked fish-like tails.
They swim round and round,
And again they come.